All Goes Down
by LuvEwan
Summary: The pyre is cooling, but the flames remain within the grieving mind of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Set during and directly after the funeral scene of ‘The Phantom Menace’.


**All Goes Down**

PG

(Disclaimer) Nothing belongs to me. Title taken from the song (Wish I Could) Hideaway, by John C. Fogerty

**O**

The pyre is cooling, but the flames remain within the grieving mind of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Set during and directly after the funeral scene of 'The Phantom Menace'.

**O**

Howdy, friend, beggin' your pardon,  
Is there somethin' on your mind?  
You've gone and sold all your belongings,  
Is that something in your eye?  
Well, I know you really never  
Liked the way it all goes down;  
Go on, Hideaway.

What's that you say?  
We're all bound for the graveyard;  
Oooh, I wish you well.  
Think it's gonna rain,  
Oh, what's the diff'rence,  
Is there some way I can help?

'Cause you know, I'm gonna miss you  
When you're gone, oh, Lord,  
Wish I Could Hideaway

Hold on, give yourself a chance,  
I can hear the leavin' train.

All aboard! Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!  
Oooh, I wish you well.  
See you soon, maybe tomorrow.  
You can never tell;

"Cause you know, I'm gonna miss you  
When you're gone, oh,  
Wish I could Hideaway

Hideaway, hideaway, hideaway, hideaway.  
Hideaway, hideaway,  
Hideaway, hideaway. –John C. Fogerty

**O**

The base crackled and the flames soared, molten tendrils trembling wildly in the slight stirring of air. In the core of the conflagration lay a body, wrapped in cool cream tunics, limbs settled in attempted semblance of a peaceful sleep. The eyes, of such brilliance they would have rivaled the devouring blaze, were closed—but the mouth was open, as if to search for breath through the smoke, as though there were more words that needed to be spoken.

Obi-Wan half-expected and fully prayed that the rich, tender voice would rise from the ugly depths of the pyre, and demand to be removed from the searing heat, explaining that it had been a terrible mistake, and that they all needed to chase away the delusion. After all, he would say, who truly believed Qui-Gon Jinn capable of death?

Watching the demon fire slowly attack the figure, Obi-Wan realized that he had never believed it. Despite his place beside the man, and the countless instances in which he had witnessed his near-fatalities, a part of Obi-Wan Kenobi was certain that the Universe itself would cease to function, if his Master did. The man's death was as ridiculous, as impossible, as walking with the clouds at your feet and the ocean over your head. Such a situation was simply implausible, better suiting a dream.

And maybe it was. Naboo had battered his young mind and body, pushing him far past the limits of exhaustion. Was this cruel farce the result of a prolonged slumber? His heart fluttered with fervent, desperate hope. Would he be cleansed of the memory and the soot lining his throat, if only he could grasp onto reality, and push himself out of this awful haze?

He looked again at the bier, and bit the inside flesh of his mouth. Hard.

The scene remained, unwavering and unchanged.

Obi-Wan bowed his head for a slight moment, as the grief lurched up more powerfully within him. He swallowed, and shut his eyes against the glare of his absolute devastation.

Voices crowded his mind, all his own, some clinging to their sweet denial, others crying out in lament. And one voice, rooted deeper and resonating, said that none of it was fair. Not for his beloved mentor, and not for Obi-Wan. A glorious path carved from bravery and unmatched strength wasn't meant to end at the electric tip of an enemy blade.

And another path, so much shorter and simpler, was not supposed to divert so completely from the outlined trail.

Suddenly his chest was binding, and he didn't want to hear any of it. He shoved every sound out of his head, until there was quiet. A lovely quiet…and a very small, very soft whimper.

Obi-Wan's eyes swept open, for he feared his own emotion had been freed. But his cheeks were dry. He turned his head, and through the shadows of his cowl, he saw the misery shining on the face of Anakin Skywalker.

He knew he should say something; offer a word of comfort or reassurance. But he couldn't do that, even to soothe his own shattered heart.

"What will happen to me now?" The boy asked. His eyes were huge pools of blue, somber shadow crossed over them.

For three days, Obi-Wan had been asking himself the same question, but hadn't the courage to answer. For this child, though, his Master had passed onto Obi-Wan total conviction. "The Council has granted me permission to train you. You _will _be a Jedi," He could feel a cold fist clutch up his soul, "I promise."

This sated Anakin, who compressed his mouth and focused on the thieving fire once more.

Obi-Wan did, too, watching as more of his teacher was lost behind the bleeding orange screen. He had been the one to take the match between steady fingers, and light the coals. When it was presented to him, his instinct was to shove it aside, to save what was left of his Master. No one could understand what torture it had been, to see the scorch eat the hole through Qui-Gon's torso. The heat and pain had been incredible, screaming through their mental connection…and they wanted to melt his remains, subject him to the fiery agony again?

It wasn't right. None of it was right. And it was out of his hands. He was powerless, as he had always been, as he had been when separated by the buzzing red wall, and made audience to his dearest friend's brutal slaying.

Only now, he couldn't afford the abandon he had loosed before. He couldn't do what he really needed to do.

He couldn't scream.

He couldn't scream as his life crumbled to ash, and every memory became tainted in that hot grayness. He couldn't permit his weakening knees the relief of finally buckling, for he couldn't sink to the floor and disappear within his pain.

He had to stand upright, and remember that he had been allotted his time of mourning. The tears to his psyche had to be mended. Already, he had to be recovered.

And Obi-Wan had to let go.

The Force dictated he release his Master. As doves flew with ivory wings from the shaded stone room to the thickly black sky, he felt all that was good in his existence flee along with them. Inside, he began to shiver, and he folded his arms in closer.

Soon, the others were walking away. Some stopped where the body had been, for a final look or whispered farewell to the lingering spirit.

His breaths came quicker as the departures increased, as more left the space with acceptance of their compatriot's end. But Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to join them. His eyes were steadfast on the cooling bed, his soul was grasping for Qui-Gon Jinn, despite the facts stacked around him, closing him in as the heavy walls were.

_No,_ The sharp whisper quivered in his mind, _No. _He stared at the emptied pyre, and felt it fill him and swell his already destroyed heart.

His Master _was not _dead. He couldn't believe that, not when mere days before, the man had been flushed with vitality and strength.

The morning was pale with phantom rain in the Gungan marsh. Upon waking, Obi-Wan had looked for his Master, and when he didn't find him, decided he was probably meditating on the approaching confrontation.

_He stood at the edge of the lake, thinking he should be following his instructor's example. But his heart was uneasy, rippling with the waters, and he could only gaze at the unfurling of the new day._

_A hand rested on his shoulder. He didn't need to turn to know who it was, but he did anyway._

_Qui-Gon's face was softened, his smile kind and reflective. "Brooding, my Padawan?"_

"_No, Master."_

"_No?" His expression was one of incredulity, "I'm not sure I buy that."_

"_Why shouldn't you?" Obi-Wan wondered._

"_Because you were born brooding, Obi-Wan." The older man chuckled, " And you haven't stopped since."  
_

_Obi-Wan sighed. There was very little, if anything, he could hide from his Master. "I admit I'm eager for this mission to be over."_

_Qui-Gon studied him a moment, then reached out and began to unravel the auburn braid. _

_Obi-Wan was a bit unnerved by the action. Since the shock of Qui-Gon's decision in the Council Chambers, the apprentice had felt a distance widen between them, even after the apologies they exchanged the day before. For a split second, he thought that perhaps his Master was dismissing him in favor of Anakin, and the colored beads collecting in the rugged palm were to be re-woven, into hair of flaxen blonde._

_His Master's blunt fingers ran through the strands, smoothing the kinks from constant plaiting. Then, Qui-Gon started to braid it again, tightly, and with ease wrought from years of practice. "Do you remember the first time I did this?"_

_Obi-Wan smiled, looking at the only man he would ever consider to be his father, and wanted them both to be away from this place, from this assignment that had left so many bruises and so much doubtful shadow eclipsing the light. He wanted the hurt of his slighting in the Council meeting to evaporate, for it to have never existed. And he wanted to be back in that early time, before the scars, to go through it again, and try for a better understanding between them. Because it was obvious his character was not entirely clear to Qui-Gon…too often Obi-Wan's concern and frustration was perceived as anger-or jealousy. _

_He wished for the power to go to that day when he had been so very young, and crouched before his new Master, ready to follow his leadership. He would have told the man everything there was of himself, to prevent the mistrust and anguish from ever forming. Or maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. _

"_Obi-Wan?"_

_Obi-Wan blinked, and a heat started in his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Master," He cleared his throat, "Yes, I remember."_

_Qui-Gon continued to wind the strands together, still smiling, "That was a good day." He slid on the last bead, leaving the remaining section as a tail. He took a step back. "We've had many good days, haven't we?"_

"_Yes, Master."_

"_And we'll have more," The Master declared, with a certainty that had always been elusive for his apprentice, "We have only to remember that it is the moment that matters. Yesterday I was foolish, and I can't tell what tomorrow will be. Today I have you, my Padawan, so it _will _be a good day."_

_Something surged in Obi-Wan, something sour and fearful. Very abruptly, he wanted to throw his arms around the man, in urgency, in protection. But he wasn't a child. "You're not foolish, Master."_

_Qui-Gon gripped his shoulder. "And neither are you, Obi-Wan. You have…the gentlest of souls. See to it that no one takes that from you."_

_Obi-Wan swallowed a strange thickness that had gathered in his throat, and nodded._

"_You're special, my Padawan. Yoda saw it before I did, but I see it now. And one day, everyone will. My pride for you will surpass everything."_

_Obi-Wan needed to speak, to express his surprise, his gratitude, but by then, the group had begun preparations, and there was no time left. He walked with his Master towards the others._

Obi-Wan blinked. His palms were splayed against a cold surface and his head was bowed. His muscles were a tangle of ache in his stomach, but the wracking heaves only shoved forth air from his mouth.

He wiped the sweat streaming into his eyes. His muscles were overtaxed, begging for the relief of a bed, but he couldn't stop. He had to be better. He had to be perfect at the new level. If he could only stop that miniscule shift after the third landing, he would have it. He was sure of it.

_He arranged his form into the starting position, stridently ignoring the trembling of those limbs, and launched into another attempt. Since walking into the empty salle, night had rolled into place, and a distant moon shed pale illumination into the cavernous space._

_Another err ruined the smooth pace, and he compressed his lips, returning to his original stance again._

"_Interesting," Qui-Gon Jinn remarked as he strode through the door, and into the shadows. He crossed his arms, "This looks very little like the Archives, and yet, that is exactly where you told me you'd be."_

_Obi-Wan immediately bent at the waist, slender braid swinging forward. "I apologize, Master." He _had _gone to the Archive to comb the massive stacks, but his mind had not been with the research. It remained where it always did, with memories of his mistakes and the stab of his shortcomings. So he stopped at the training arena, intending to do a few run-throughs. That had evolved into an hours-long labor that currently caused his head to swim. But he wouldn't mention any of that. He had not informed Qui-Gon of his side trip, so he deserved whatever rebuke he would receive._

_Qui-Gon nodded, studying his apprentice with the critical eyes of a mentor. "You've been working very hard here, haven't you?"_

"_Yes, Master."  
_

"_Level six looks to be nearly mastered, Padawan. But I fear it never will be."_

_Every vein and cord within him was stretched to painful tautness. He swallowed, and couldn't bear to match his gaze with his teacher's. "I fear the same thing."_

_Qui-Gon gripped his shoulder, "And it isn't because you are incapable, my apprentice. That isn't it at all."_

_Obi-Wan risked looking up at him. "Then what am I doing wrong?"_

"_You're thinking too much. You're considering every movement you make, instead of surrendering to the will of the Force, and letting IT move you." The man regarded him with gentle quizzicality, "You weren't always this way. Why have you come to doubt yourself?"_

_Obi-Wan just stood there, attempting to breathe. What could he say?_

"Don't be hindered by a need to please others, Obi-Wan. You're only betraying yourself, and the Force, by doing so. The Force surrounds and fills you, Obi-Wan. It buoys you with strength and Light. If you gave yourself over to it, you would be amazing. You wouldn't have to try…you could do whatever you needed to do."

"Thank you, Master." The younger Jedi bowed. He wanted very much to smile, but he couldn't. It was inside that the joy expanded, to alleviate and consume his heart.

Qui-Gon tugged his braid. "Come on. Let's find you something to eat."

He lowered his head, until his temple rested on the cool stone of the ground.

The man detracted his hand, frowning. "You still have the fever."

Obi-Wan blinked and coughed. "The talks are only scheduled to last a few hours. I'll be fine."

They stood at the door, Obi-Wan wrapped in the meager warmth of his cloak, Qui-Gon favoring him with a concerned eye. "Rarely do they commit to any schedule, Padawan. You know that."

"Then I promise to pass out quietly." Obi-Wan offered with a grin.

"Stay here," Qui-Gon told him, "You can participate in the talks tomorrow. By then, you should be improved."

"Truly, Master," Obi-Wan countered, "That isn't necessary."

"Hm. I suppose I could drag you along with me. But I have always held to the belief that misery shouldn't always love company. You have a valid reason to miss these eternally boring formalities, Padawan. Take it—or I might just resent you."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Well, I shouldn't risk THAT."

Qui-Gon ruffled his hair. "I knew you'd see it my way."

And he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly, waiting for the moment when the intensity would topple over the edge, and he would be pitched over into a different plane. There had to be a place where he, where his Master, where Qui-Gon was. Wasn't that what he had learned, at such a young age? That creation was limitless, but once created, nothing could cease to be? It had to be somewhere, even if in fragments. So this idea that Qui-Gon Jinn was dead…that he wasn't coming back…that their last moment together was a smeared second of whispered duty and tears…that he was gone…

In the cold bowels of the starship, he sat away from the entourage. The handmaidens passed him like wraiths, cloaked in fine shadow, heads bowed and movements restrained by a shared shyness. Since his own anguished rebirth following the Council meeting, he had begun to feel a sort of kinship with them. They were seen, but barely so, existing in the lofty shade cast by their superior, and expected to sacrifice themselves at any moment, for whatever reason.

_Obi-Wan's heart was reeling, for so deeply had it been punctured and bled. He couldn't breathe without the torment rising in his lungs. A rush of anger and outrage had kicked up a tempest when the words left his mentor's lips, and it had been all he could think, all he could hear. His steps had been jarring as he left the Chamber, but yet, he had been floating in haze. He was ready when Anakin Skywalker's fate rested wholly on his need to be, but mere moments before, in the balmy orange reflection of sunset, he had been an apprentice with many lessons ahead of him. The only logic in the abrupt shift of Qui-Gon's beliefs was the same as what Obi-Wan had privately assumed: theirs was a fleeting partnership, a lamentable veer off course, a piece of mislaid luck that had finally been retracted. He had been a placeholder. And now that someone had been found to occupy the position beside the legendary Master Jinn, Obi-Wan was supposed to bow and retreat. _

_And with that knowledge, the ire cooled to the lonely freeze in which he was now locked. His Master had abandoned him, after twelve years of tutelage, with the High Council as audience. And for what? _

_For the future, of the Jedi _and _the Universe. For the greater good._

How could he argue with that? Who was he to stand between Qui-Gon and the fulfillment of ancient prophecy?

But that's what he doesn't understand, A small, usually smothered voice spoke, It's still prophecy. And there's nothing to prove it to be true. The Force is infused with dark tendrils of uncertainty—how can he ignore it?

Obi-Wan leaned his head against the wall. Because he sees what he wants to. Like I did. I saw friendship. He swallowed and sat forward, sinking his head into the haven of his hands. But I wasn't seeing anything real.

Time went on, serving to etch and re-etch the lines of misery in his mind, until it resembled a flawless portrait. It was the image he had always carried with him. The final, deserved rejection.

And what was he to do, now that he was fixed within that eternal scene? What more could he be, with his Master's faith revealed as illusion? Every kind word he recollected was suddenly riddled with doubt.

Obi-Wan's sigh blew against the frigid flesh of his palms. His only communication with Qui-Gon after the meeting was met with acrid denouncement, and he had been ordered, again, to leave his Master's side. His view of Anakin Skywalker would be dismissed as being tainted, no matter how civilly he mentioned his concerns, or how emotionally detached he strove to be.

_The crew and the royal staff, the Queen and Qui-Gon and Anakin, they lived beyond him now, in another realm, still within the light and dark of when the conflict began. But he was lost in his new role of nothing, in exile. _

_What would happen when they returned to Coruscant? Would he be forced to clean out his quarters, to make way? Or would Qui-Gon have arrangements already in place, for a quicker transition? _

_He tried to console himself, Anakin Skywalker's training had not been sanctioned by the Council yet. But yet didn't mean never. With the tenacity of Qui-Gon Jinn, it would surely happen. _

_He hated himself for resenting the situation. The child was innocent, and that alone was enough to preclude him from any of the blame. But Obi-Wan couldn't help but see more than purity in bright blue eyes. In their vividness, he saw his own tomorrow dim._

_His mind grew heavier with each new layer, and Obi-Wan stretched out on the bench, turned toward it with an arm bent under his head. He needed to separate himself from the pain and lingering shock, to connect to the Force and regain equilibrium. He couldn't still be standing there, at the core of night with the damning words ringing. The incident wasn't affecting his Master too much—he continued his tasks, as though shunning his apprentice had merely been the crossing of a bridge, from one land to a better horizon. _

_He wanted to go to the man, and demand answers. But he wouldn't be the orphaned child, clinging to a departing form. There was still the dust of his pride, somewhere in the rubble. Besides, he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to hear the complete truth of Qui-Gon's motives. _

_Obi-Wan was Jedi. He knew he was strong. But he was a man, and that strength could only be pushed to a certain degree before it, too, would leave him._

_Miraculously, a fog began to coil around and thread through his thoughts, concealing them from him, so that he could drift toward oblivion's respite. He would sleep, and for a while, none of it would be real._

_Soon he was in blackness, sheltered from the muffled voices in the distance, numbed of desertion's fatal sting._

_Then, there was a gentle pressure against his shoulder blade, and he was shoved full-throttle into consciousness, eyes snapping open. At once, he remembered where he was, beneath the artificial lights of the starship. He blinked, peering half-lidded up at the intruder upon his sleep._

"_Hi." Anakin's mouth curved in a smile. _

_Obi-Wan sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heel of a hand. His body felt twisted from the odd position it adopted on the slender bench, and an ache flared in his temple. "What is it?"_

_The boy's demeanor shifted, and his eyes dropped a bit. "I…I just…everyone's going to sleep and…" He looked up at Obi-Wan, "I know that you and Master Qui-Gon are mad at each other. I don't want you to be. I know it's because of me."_

"_No," Obi-Wan sighed, swinging his legs around, and sitting straighter, "It's not. Don't worry yourself with it."_

_Anakin's lips compressed. "Well, I just wanted you to know I'm sorry you're fighting." He was patently, obviously uncomfortable, and added, "Good night," before hastily walking away._

_Obi-Wan dropped his head back against the bench. He would accuse himself of being childish, but that would be an insult to the actual child, whose behavior was exemplary in comparison. _

_He had a feeling sleep wouldn't come so easily this time. _

_His eyes shut, but he was listless, and he stared into the shadows of his own mind, waiting for the eventual drift._

"_Tomorrow will be an important day. I don't think I have to remind you that you must be mentally-and physically-prepared for whatever happens." _

_Obi-Wan wished that the bench would form a gaping, ravenous mouth, and he would be swallowed up. But then he opened his eyes, and looked at Qui-Gon. _You don't need to remind me of anything anymore. I'm ready to live without you there to remind me—aren't I? _The bitterness seethed in him. He knew it was wrong, ill-befitting a Jedi…but he couldn't care. Not now, when nothing else could provoke much of a reaction from him. "Yes—Master."_

_He tore his eyes from the chiseled visage, and reclined on the narrow bench. _

"_Obi-Wan."_

_With reluctance, he craned his neck, to face his teacher._

_Qui-Gon sighed. "We may currently have…a difference of opinion, but your bed is still your own."_

_A difference of opinion. Obi-Wan swallowed the small burst of pain and stood. "Yes, Master."_

Obi-Wan flexed his fingers, and his nails raked against the gravel. He had never hated himself so much. The last precious days with Qui-Gon, and he had filled them with anger and acrimony. He panted, every symmetry within himself shaken. Wherever there was kindness, he had seen cruelty. He smothered the light, in favor of terrible darkness.

I wasn't worth it. I was never worth it and I had the audacity to… 

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's breath caught. _M-Master?_

He looked up in a blur, and thought he would see Qui-Gon, standing in the sleek innards of the Naboo craft. He thought he would see his Master, the person he loved beyond reasoning. But his eyes were on the figure of Mace Windu, and beyond his broad shoulders was the glowing stone of the funeral.

"M-Master Windu." He forced from numb lips. It took him a moment to realize he was bent on the ground, outside the plaza, near a crop of exotic brush. And he had been gagging. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

Mace took a step forward. Like his fellow Jedi, including Obi-Wan, he wore his best tunics, and his head was framed by a dark cowl. "It's alright, young one."

Obi-Wan stood, hoping his legs would support him. "I'm sorry." He bowed, "I haven't been centered."

"I can guess why," Mace said softly. He studied Obi-Wan with intensely dark, polished eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan responded quickly, injecting a lilt into his voice. "How is Anakin? I…I didn't see him leave."

"The Queen took him under her wing. He's been declared the hero of Naboo. By Amidala, at least. I'm sure he won't be mistreated."

Obi-Wan nodded. He hardly knew what to do with a child. Fifty hours ago, he had been an apprentice, and as such, was regarded as no more than a child, a half-Jedi. Every decision was in his hands now, as they had been in Qui-Gon's. They massed together like an enormous wall, crushing him in a corner. Thankfully, his Padawan was with Padme Amidala, and despite her political status, she was young, and had a good heart. At the moment, she was more capable of handling Anakin than he was.

But that would change. He would guard the future of that boy with his very life. And if, one day, he did die to save Anakin, he would be cut of every bound, and be free to find his Master. Because really, there was so much more that should have been said, that was halted by a sewn mouth. There were words that were always meant to be said…

He fell into the daze again, only for a blink, and when he was aware again, he was in the unlikely circle of Master Windu's arms.

Yet, his cheeks were devoid of moisture. It was built up in his throat, and he choked, forgetting his pride and his place, burying his face in tunic. He was Jedi, and he had trained himself to stand apart from emotion, to feel behind a groomed mask. He had never felt so strongly—and still, the tears had not come. The last time he had cried, his Master had reached up with a bleached finger, to wipe it away. Obi-Wan would hold that close, and refuse to compromise it by giving in to the sorrow again.

"It's alright." Mace whispered. His voice was rich placidity, but now tender, "He was my friend, too. He was a great man."

Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut. "He…was…" _He was all I had. _He broke away from the other Jedi, running fingers through his hair. He could smell ash there, everywhere.

Mace crossed his arms within the flooding sleeves of his mahogany robe. "He was a great man, but sometimes, his compassion blinded him. I think you know that. That was the case with Skywalker. He still believed fully in the boy, and he was running out of time." He sighed heavily. "Obi-Wan, you were blinded, too. By your grief. You would have promised him anything."

_Yes. _Obi-Wan thought, periphery painted in the slain Master's agonized face, the hope kindled in dying eyes. He had heard what Qui-Gon wanted from him, but didn't register it then, waiting for what else would be told. But that had been all that was spoken between them there, in the fading of life and Light. _Promise me you will train the boy. _

"And I promised him I would teach Anakin to be a Jedi." Obi-Wan said. He was unsure of himself, had always been, but with his role as Anakin Skywalker's Master, he had Qui-Gon's conviction. That was enough. "That is my purpose, Master Windu."

"As successfully training an apprentice is the purpose of every Master. But in fulfilling the promises of Qui-Gon, and mentoring Anakin, do not forget yourself. You must always remember yourself, young Obi-Wan. If everything were stripped from you, and you were alone, it would be horrible not to understand what you are."

The stars trembled in the low-hung canopy of the sky. Obi-Wan bowed. "I will remember, Master."

"Good." Mace smiled, but something in his dark features seemed unsettled. "Walk with me. I have many fond memories of Qui-Gon I'd share with you."

But Obi-Wan shook his head. He couldn't be taken by the past again, or he would be lost within it, drowned in the biting laughter and pain. No, his time belonged to Anakin. It would be his from now on. "Thank you, Master Windu, but I believe I'm needed elsewhere."

He walked toward the palace, where the grand windows were squares of warm glow, slowly winking out as the night deepened. Somewhere inside was Anakin.

**O**


End file.
